June closed the folder. "The decision has been made. Darren Pike, your employment with Haverty Dining Group is terminated, effective immediately. Your system access is suspended. Any outstanding transactions under your manager code will be reviewed, and the company reserves the right to refer the matter to the appropriate authorities if the review establishes further misconduct."
Darren pushed back his chair. "I quit. Three weeks before I take over, and you think you can do this to me?"
"You were never entitled to that position," Ellis said quietly. "I recommended you because I believed you understood what this restaurant stood for. I was wrong."
"You'll regret this," Darren snapped. "Let's see how long this company lasts without me."
"Security will walk you down," June said.
Darren gathered his folder with shaking hands. At the door, he turned toward Leon.
"You can't run fourteen restaurants by sitting at tables and judging people."
Leon stood. "You're right. I have to listen to the people who sit at those tables and the people who serve them. I should have started doing that sooner."
Darren left. The door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow sounded more final than a slam.
For a long moment, none of the three remaining people spoke.
Ellis rubbed his forehead. "I hired him, Leon. That's on me. I vouched for him because he was sharp, organized, and good with the numbers. I saw what he could do when a room was full. I didn't ask what he did when he thought nobody important was looking."
"Neither did I," Leon said. "I trusted the reports because I wanted the reports to be enough. We both stopped looking. That ends now."
Ellis nodded, his eyes wet but his voice steady. "What happens to the staff?"
"They get the truth," June said. "And a chance to tell us what they've seen without being punished for it."
Leon picked up his notebook. "And we bring Roz back."
At 9:02, Rosalind Petrakis was standing behind the counter at a small coffee shop three blocks from her apartment, trying to decide whether she could stretch the money in her checking account through Friday. She had not slept much. Her apron was folded on the kitchen table at home, and her hospitality management textbook lay open beside it, though she had read the same paragraph six times without understanding a word.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Is this Rosalind Petrakis?"
"Yes."
"My name is June Haverty. I'm calling from Haverty Dining Group. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"
Roz gripped the edge of the counter. "Is this about my job?"
"It is. Would you be willing to come to Ninth at ten? We'd like to hear your account of what happened yesterday and discuss what comes next."
"I was fired."
"I know."
"By Darren."
"I know that, too."
Roz looked at the coffee machine, at the customers waiting by the door, at the life she had expected to be living that morning. "Why are you calling me?"
"Because yesterday you were the only person on the floor who did the right thing when it was difficult. We owe you a conversation."
Roz swallowed. "Is the table-leg guy going to be there?"
June paused, then gave a small laugh. "Yes. He'll be there."
At ten o'clock, Roz walked into Ninth through the front door. She had changed into a simple navy dress and flat shoes. Her hair was neatly pinned back, and she carried a folder containing her employment records, school schedule, and the two printed checks she had kept after the incident. She had almost thrown them away the night before, thinking they were useless. Something had told her to keep them.